The Enamel Heart
by BrightRiver
Summary: Anne and Gilbert have not seen each other since Convocation. A chance meeting in Toronto, four years later, allows the two old friends to reunite. This story is AU.
1. Chapter 1

**This story is AU...**

 **Everything that L.M.M Montgomery wrote, until convocation in Anne of the Island, happened.**

 **The rest thereafter, did not.**

 **Gilbert never contracted typhoid.**

 _Chapter 1_

August, 1891

The crosswalk on Queen Street West was, as the saying goes, busy like Piccadilly Circus. Not that Gilbert Blythe, could account for the crowds of Piccadilly Circus, as he had not yet gone beyond the gentle shores of Canada. While he sometimes had dreamt of crossing the great Atlantic ocean, to walk in lands he read fastidiously through his youth, those dreams never included manoeuvring through throngs of people.

On one side of the street, a building loomed with the word Eatons, and behind him a similar building bellowed the title of Simpsons. Both stores selling the exact same goods, in the same style and manner. Each store was flanked by men, ready to open doors for women, eager to lay coins in exchange for something vogue. It was the exact reason why Gilbert was there, to give his money in return for an item. Truthfully, the trek to what felt like the clogged arteries of Toronto, was not made of his own choice, it was done under instruction by his wife.

His own town of Amherst, Nova Scotia was smaller than Toronto, but no less busy. While it did not have a rambunctious pedestrian like Toronto's Yonge Street, it felt like it could one day soon. Constructions were springing up like the shoots of flowers, new endeavours built on dreams and wishes. Amherst was full of promise and prosperity. The hyped up atmosphere, was at times draining, but it did provide him with a robust business as a doctor. A growing parade of upper middle class individuals, filled his list of patients, hanging on every word he made, adding to his confidence. Too confident, some of Amherst said behind closed doors.

When the move to Amherst had been decided, Gilbert was anything but confident. The prospect of having to establish himself was daunting. It hung like a dark cloud, during the early visits to his fiancee's hometown. Over time, the cloud retreated with the help of kind words from his sweetheart, and the known truth, her family was part of high social standing. He was not a fool, comfortably aware that association would help. Once they were married, in the Anglican Church where his wife's grandfather, Edward Barron Chandler, a noted politician was baptised, Gilbert's standing in the town was sealed.

He never dreamed, living across the Northumberland Strait, would be his fate in life. Journeys between the Island and mainland, passed through Amherst. Most of the time, he rarely knew the train had stopped to pick up passengers, for he had always been chatting away nonsensical with the rest of the crew heading back to Redmond College or to their Island home. It wasn't until after graduation from his B.A, and the beginning of his medical degree in Kingsport, that the town of Amherst became more than a mark on the map.

For three years, the stretch of railway between his abode in Kingsport and his fiancees home town was a worn passage. The last Saturday of each month, he would travel the distance, alighting on the station platform, with a sense that he should keeping moving until he arrived at his Island. He never did and his visits home became less.

The door into Eaton's opened for him. Gilbert looked around, floored by the scene. A sprawling space of opulence and opportunity, laid out in such a fashion that one could not stand still, and he began walking looking from counter to counter. A young woman dressed in black approached him, offering assistance. Gilbert quickly identified the staff form the customers, their simple dress almost made them disappear amongst the pops of colour and rich fabrics worn by the customers. He handed her the page from the Eaton catalogue, and with a quick nod, he was guided to the far side of the room where the jewellery cabinets were.

When Gilbert mentioned to his wife that his old professor attend a medical conference in Toronto, she did not bat an eyelid. The only mention of his trip, came with the request for a pendant to match her engagement ring. She circled the pendant in the catalogue, telling her husband that it would take longer by mail.

Her engagement ring was shopped for in the same way, with her circling the style of ring, filling out an order form and handing it to Gilbert. He joked at the time, that she was lucky he was on a scholarship. Even now, this new pendant was going to mean more hours at work and less at home. If she was unhappy with a husband constantly away, he never knew.

He had wanted to buy her engagement ring in Carmondy from a man that was known for selling well priced but also well made rings. Stones of emeralds, rubies and diamonds were fitted with care, into bands of gold. But his speciality was pearls from the island, made of salt and sea. Gilbert thought it would have been romantic, to have something made from near his hometown, as a token of his love. Instead, it was to be Eatons.

As Gilbert began to pay for his wife's new jewel, a sound of applause erupted from somewhere in the building. Glancing of his shoulder, he watched people moving towards the staircase. Once his transaction was over, the store woman bided him a good day and hurried towards the crowd. Having completed his errand, Gilbert was eager to remove himself from the scurry of people.

Before he could move two paces, a familiar voice echoed across the room, followed by a burst of applause.

He did not need to see the red hair, or her face, to know it was Anne.

She stood at the bottom of a marble stair case, addressing the crowd of people. Her attire was like something from Eatons; the dress made of rich purple velvet, hugged a bone coloured blouse with a dramatic frilled collar. A matching purple velvet hat sat atop her head, her hair coiffed into the latest fashion. He had not seen Anne in four years, since Convocation. He had never returned to Avonlea during the summer after their final year of studies. Choosing to remain in Kingsport, where he could earn a decent wage.

Gilbert could admit honestly, when he said Anne had not crossed his mind, in the last four years. She had become a forgotten memory. He had moved on from her rejection, funnelled the sadness into his work, that led to many achievements. Truthfully he was a happy man. He told Charlie Sloane, that if it weren't for Anne rejecting him, he would not have won the Cooper prize and the dream of medical school, would have been just that, a dream.

Just as he was about to take a step back to leave, Anne looked up, catching his eye. Gilbert wished he had gone into Simpsons instead of Eatons, now he felt obliged to stay.

Anne continued to read, but her concentration had been disrupted, like a leaf ripped from its tree during an unexpected gust. The visit to Eatons was rudimentary, nothing out of the ordinary. It had never crossed her mind, that she would see an old friend, amongst the crowd. She could feel Owen Ford was looking at her with unease, aware of her slip up. This was the third recitation she had given in two days, the other two were flawless displays.

The recitation ended with a long ovation. The clerks organised eager fans into a line, for Anne meet. She would glance up occasionally, checking to see if Gilbert was still there.

He stood to the side, watching the scene unfold, as Anne greeted the crowd. She was polite, warm, engaging, leaving each person with a small spring in their step. He was not surprised to see the effect, it was a practised charm she had since childhood. No matter who met her, they were doomed to fall for her.

The last of the crowd departed, leaving a clear path to where he stood. Anne looked over her shoulder towards Owen. She saw he was busily talking to a gentlemen, deciding now would be a good time to sneak over to Gilbert, before she was pulled off to some other meeting. When she turned to face Gilbert, he was flicking through her book. She suddenly felt small, nervous, biting on her lip wondering if he approved.

"What good fate, has brought you to Toronto, so that we may run into one another?" Anne asked as she removed the book from his hands, "did you come to buy my book?"

She was greeted with a large smile, his dark eyes softening as they met her own. "I don't know, but it is nice to see you Miss published author." He had not changed much, except his hair. There was not much curl left. Instead it was smoothed down, looking more like a business man, than the rugged Island boy she remembered him as.

"A Canadian agent wrote to me last year, asking if I would like to compile a series I wrote for the Womens Home Journal, into a book." She looked back at Owen. "An honour, but with it comes a rather exhausting tour of meeting and greeting. Do you live in Toronto? Last I heard you were in Amherst."

Gilbert felt a lump swell somewhere, bewildered she kept up with him. "Not, not Toronto. This city is too big and crowded for me. Amherst is the largest city I can stand. I am here for a medical conference."

"Excuse me Anne," Owen said interjecting their conversation. "I'm sorry to disturb you."

Gilbert noticed Anne's shoulders square up, slight irritation flashing across her face. It reminded him of the days when someone, mainly himself, would say something to agrivate her. "This is Mr. Blythe, a very old friend whom I have not seen for some time. We grew up together. Mr Blythe, this is Mr. Ford my agent."

"Lovely to meet you. Nice to see both of you got off the Island," Owen said shaking his hand.

"Are you of the Island too?" asked Gilbert.

"No, though I do have ties there. It's nice for a visit, but can be a bit of a bore," stated Owen. "Your driver is here Anne. He will take you back to the hotel. I have an appointment, then we will meet for supper? Gilbert if you are not busy, you should come dine with us."

Anne turned to Gilbert, smiling jubilantly at Owen's suggestion. "Yes, please come Gilbert, it would be lovely to have you. It's been too long."

Her head was tilted, familiar large grey eyes crinkled from her smile, pale eyebrows raised in excitement. There was no sign on Anne's face, that said, she was inviting him out of politeness. Instead she looked eager, hopefully even. He wondered if his own face, betrayed the apprehension he felt. Unable to think of a worthy excuse, Gilbert agreed.


	2. Chapter 2

**This story is AU...**

 **Everything that L.M.M Montgomery wrote, until convocation in Anne of the Island, happened.**

 **The rest thereafter, did not.**

 **Gilbert never contracted typhoid.**

Chapter 2

The hotel was grand, far removed from the boarding house Gilbert was staying. Bright, electric lights bounced off the silver and white wallpaper, making the foyer glisten like the inside of a fresh pearl. To the left, people sat talking on sofas, large ferns and palms proudly sitting amongst the crowd. A elevator sat between the common area and a sweeping staircase on the right. Yes, very, very far removed from his dwelling.

"I will admit that an elevator is just as thrilling as it looks." Anne had snuck up beside him. "Mr. Ford is seated already," she gave him her arm "Shall we?"

There had been a time, when Gilbert would have crawled over hot stones, to have the privilege of escorting Anne into a room. Whenever the chance arose, his body would be a fit of nerves and excitement.

He caught himself trying to steal a glance at her, a worn habit from years gone by. She would always hold her head high, chin pointed up, proudly surveying the room as they entered, never paying attention to Gilbert. This time he was surprised to find her stealing a glance at him. Her cheeks blossomed in a blush, a meek smile on her lips, having been caught in the act. Gilbert wondered if she was nervous.

The time spent between their chance meeting that afternoon and now, had not played too much on Gilbert's mind. The minute he left Eatons, Gilbert made up his mind, to not think much of tonight. His presence was only out of politeness. After all, they had barely spoken since his pathetic proposal. He had tried in vain to rescue any sort of fragments that remained of their friendship at the time, but she had none of it. Gilbert was the one who would continue to visit Patty's Place, trying to be the friend she wanted. His heart still stinging from the rejection, coupled with the subsequent knowledge that Anne was spending time with a man that filled out her every romantic ideal. Anne made little effort in return. She never went out of her way to mend the bridge of friendship, that he had apparently ruined. He even tried sending an enamel heart one Christmas, which was met with a simple thank you note. And even his congratulatory flowers at Convocation, were returned with no favour, not even a verbal one.

The foyers opulence dimmed upon entering the dinning room. Amherst had it's grand dinning halls, as did Kingsport, but neither matched this. The electric lights, buzzing amongst the busy chatter of the seated gusts. At the far end was a stage, where a piano player was tapping away a lazy tune.

Owen stood to shake his hand, revealing his elegant attire. Gilbert suddenly felt very underdressed.

It was only when Gilbert sat down, did he let his eye wander over Anne. He admitted that age had not been unkind, Anne was still as iridescent as ever, glowing, like she had stolen all the electric light from each globe in the room. She had replaced the thick velvet dress, for a gold gossamer gown, that showed off her slender arms and porcelain skin. Her hair was fastened low at the neck. Her chin was resting atop of her hand, as she gazed about the room. One of her usual mannerisms.

Owen quizzed Gilbert about what food he might like, then with a wave, a waiter appeared taking their orders.

"Anne tells me you are a doctor, based in Amherst. What brings you to Toronto?"

"I arrived in Toronto three days ago for a medical conference, it's a routine affair really. It finished this afternoon actually. I'll return on Friday, leaving tomorrow wide open, to see something other than conference halls and Eatons I hope." Gilbert replied.

The conversation moved to the Island and Owen's link. Owen explained that his great grandmother came from Four Winds, a port town to the East. Her old home is in now his possession, having recently purchased it from the church. Gilbert surprised him by admitting he knew the house, from visits to the area after medical school. His uncle Dave was the doctor at Glen St Mary, a position he almost took over himself, but he could not sway his wife to move to the Island.

"It is a merry town. The house would be good for me to hide away in, maybe try writing something myself," Owen said wistfully. "If you ever care to holiday there, I will happily rent you the house. Are you married?"

Gilbert nodded with a smile, "Yes, I am. It's why I was at Eatons actually. I was buying my wife, a belated wedding anniversary gift."

"How is Christine?" Anne had been quite, listening to the mens conversation. The last few days had involved non stop talking, that she was happy to sit and listen. But she was eager to know about Gilbert's life. It was the first time Gilbert had spoken to Anne about his wife. She had her heard snippets from Diana through letters, from Phil also. They did not move in the same social circles through university, leaving her opinion of Christine vague. In Diana's letters, Gilbert sounded content.

"She is well and in good spirits," Gilbert said. "I have not asked how your husband is? Is he in Toronto also?"

Anne shook her head, "No, he is in the West Indies. Roy left two months before I sailed here. He sounds well in his letters, occupied with the business as usual."

"Sailed? I thought you would have settled in Kingsport, not the West Indies," Gilbert asked confused.

"I sailed from London. We settled there, after our marriage. At least for now." Anne looked perplexed, "I thought you would have known that?"

Gilbert shrugged his shoulders, "Sorry, I have not kept up." By the look on her face, he wondered if she was upset he had not kept up with her. He rarely wrote to anyone from Avonlea days or even the old circle they shared at Kingsport. "I don't get back to Avonlea much and Mother's arthritis has affected her hands. She can't write too much anymore, and, well dad has never been much for correspondence. He will talk on the t'phone if I call, but mostly about the farm."

"I admit that I have not been back to Avonlea for some time either," sighed Anne. "But I am travelling there in two days, to surprise Marilla, before I sail back. "

They began to talk of Avonlea, Anne filling him in with the bits of gossip, she has collected. Old stories and familiar jokes were retold. The old fluidity of their former friendship seeped back through the cracks.

As they talked, Gilbert noticed a demureness about Anne. There was a lack of loudness in her words. She would hide a laugh, behind her hand. He wondered if this recoiled nature, was driven by the presence of Mr. Ford.

As the dessert plates were collected, the piano player was accompanied by a larger band.

"I hate to interrupt," Owen said, "but I am going to excuse myself before this place becomes busy. You watch Gilbert, this floor will begin to fill up with most of Toronto." He stood up, stretching his hand out to Gilbert. "It was lovey to meet you." Gilbert went to stand up too, "No, you do not have to leave because I am going. Stay and talk to Anne."

Anne rose, "It is late, I should go."

"Tomorrow is your day off remember. You should go to the beach before leaving Toronto. Take Gilbert, if he is free. I have to be at the office, otherwise I would love to take you both. I promise it is not as busy as this place, unless it's hot, then it very well could be."

The three walked out of the dinning hall. Gilbert stood to the side as Owen said goodbye to Anne, exchanging business formalities. As he walked away, Anne turned to Gilbert, "What do you say? Care for a trip, to Toronto's beaches tomorrow?"

 **A big thank you to PelirrojaBie, Kim Blythe, Rose, Lizzy Eastwood, Katherine-with-a-k and the guests, for your reviews and encouragement.**


	3. Chapter 3

**This story is AU...**

 **Everything that L.M.M Montgomery wrote, until convocation in Anne of the Island, happened.**

 **The rest thereafter, did not.**

 **Gilbert never contracted typhoid.**

 _Chapter 3_

Anne had hired a driver to take them to Toronto beach, much to Gilbert's reluctance. They had bickered the night before, over how they would arrive. A short walk from Anne's hotel was a street car pickup. Gilbert pointed out this option would be more affordable, while adding a sense of adventure. Anne persisted that she could afford to hire him comfortable transport, there wold be no need to stand around waiting, or for Gilbert to spend too much money. Gilbert finally relented, when she stated that a women should not be seen inside a street car. He smiled, thanking her for the generosity. Inside Gilbert was agitated. What Anne truly admitted, was that a woman of her standing should not be seen in a street car, reminding him of her status.

The money wasn't the only reason for the streetcar. He had thought it would allow Anne to relax, let go of this gaudy show she had on. The streetcar would have provided entertainment, invoking the old days, when they had no money and would happily loll about people watching. Wonder what they were reading, imagining conversations between people or sometimes poking fun at the passers by. Anne would have struck up a conversation with someone, possibly a mother with a small child. There used to be a lot of laughter, golden laughter that bounced off everything. Her head thrown back, right hand on her chest. No one ever laughed like Anne did.

Instead, she sat upright, poised like a statue. The conversation moved back and fourth, covering subjects of architecture and literature. While Anne sat perched forward, Gilbert relaxed into the plush seat of the carriage, affording himself to view his companion. She wore a tailored ivory suit, covered with small periwinkle blue floral embellishments. A line of buttons traced from the top of her neck, following the spine to halfway down her back. Her head was adorned with a wide brimmed hat that matched the dress. Everything was coordinated, right down to her white parasol. As they rode on through the streets, he wondered about the Anne he first laid eyes on. The scruffy skinny orphan girl who was all limbs; did she ever imagine tailors would be making her clothes, fancy hotels would be the norm, expensive carriages at her disposal.

They arrived at the beach, both of them looking at one another with eyebrows raised, as they walked to the boardwalk. "It's hard to call this a beach, don't you agree?" asked Anne.

Gilbert shook his head, "Compared to the ones in our youth, no it's not a true beach. Are the beaches of Lake Ontario worth the visit then?"

Anne smiled, gazing out dreamily towards the water, "It was. At least I can say I got to see one of the must visit places in Toronto when I write to Mr. Ford." She cast her eyes over the scene, reminding Gilbert of the endless moments he would watch her become enveloped in the natural beauty of the world, hoping that she would not move and he could stay watching her forever. She had the same effect at dinner last night, until she did something so out of character that made him remember that he might not know Anne anymore and how much she had changed.

"Seeing Lake Ontario, makes me miss the ocean, there is something soothing about being close to it. Shall we take a turn on the pier?"

Anne nodded, opening her parasol as they began walking.

"I could not agree with you more," Anne replied. "But at least Amherst is closer to a salty sea than London. How is life in Amherst? Do you practice privately or at an infirmary?"

"Privately. It is good work. I have a steady stream of patients. It's not what I imagined when I began. I had hoped, to be helping those less fortunate. But Christine's family has some standing in the old town, so I was introduced to patients in their circle quite quickly. Before I knew it, these people were my patients."

"Sounds like you are doing what you hoped to do, helping fight disease, pain and ignorance."

Gilbert remembered the conversation she was referring too. "Yes, but not the honest, real work I'd imagined. The town's working community is growing, and I hope to be down there helping soon. And it sounds like you are adding beauty to people's lives with your writing. "

"I hope so."

Anne then pointed towards a large building "that I am guessing is our destination for lunch, Scarboro's Heights Hotel. Shall we?" Gilbert nodded politely, as they walked towards the popular lakeside social location.

Mr. Ford was right, a hot day would see many people by the beach and the other half were in the dinning hall at the lakeside hotel. It was similar to the dinning halls he would frequent with Christine and her family. He rarely went to dinner or lunch without her family. Christine would openly display her annoyance at having them close by all the time, regularly joking that they should move to Kingsport or better yet, run away out west.

Before either of them looked at their menu's, a familiar face presented himself in front of Gilbert. Knowing instantly who it was, he stood up to shake his hand.

"Terrance Bonair, what a surprise this is."

The young man nodded, nervously looking around for his superior. Gilbert noticing his caution, understood and sat down. "It sure is a surprise, Mr. Blythe."

"I think you can freely call me Gilbert now, I am no longer your teacher. What brought you from White Sands to Toronto?"

Terrance began pouring water into their glasses, while speaking about how he ended up in Toronto to take his bachelors. During summer he supplemented his time and income, with tutoring and waiting tables.

Gilbert in turn told his own short story, covering his studies and why he was in Toronto. He did not mention his marriage to Christine. When Terrance said "It is nice to see you married Miss Shirley," with a smile in her direction, it was met with an irritated look from Anne.

Terrance realising the mistake he made, went to pick up the water jug he had on the table, accidentally knocking Anne's full glass, splashing water.

"Is this man bothering you?" came the voice from another waiter, who looked to be higher in rank.

"Yes he is," said Anne sharply rising to her feet abruptly.

Apologies were exchanged and tables were swapped for a dry one. Gilbert was relived when lunch arrived, the encounter between Anne and Terrance bewildered him. His old friend Anne, would have been sympathetic, laughing at the water spill on the table. Her dislike did not go unnoticed to the maitre d, removing Terrance from the floor. Gilbert wondered throughout the lunch if his old pupil would be employed by the end of the day. He knew how expensive university was.

After lunch they had decided to walk towards Kew Garden's, following the boardwalk along the beach. Gilbert wanted to say something about her over-reaction. He was surprised when Anne made mention of Terrance and if he would still have a job, by the end of the day.

"I didn't mean to turn like that, having him removed from the floor," Anne sighed. "I was only annoyed because he asked if we were married. I suppose it bought up the memories from when we were young. I used to find it so cumbersome that everyone would remark about you and me, pushing for us to be engaged or something."

Gilbert couldn't help but laugh, "I learnt very quickly after my proposal how unsuitable you found me and that the idea of marriage between us angered you. What a fool I was to not have seen it."

She stopped, turning to face him "I wasn't angry because you were not a suitable man to marry, you were - more than you could know. I felt like our friendship was under a magnify glass everyday. No one would talk to me without mentioning you – I felt like – like I was living, in a shadow of expectation."

He paused, unsure how to respond. Anne's grey eyes, were hidden by a shadow from her hat brim. Her words had stirred something within him, the whispers of unspoken words and questions began to fill his mind. Had they been away from the Avonlea gossip and Redmond chitchat, would Anne have answered differently? Did he speak too soon?

Gilbert stepped away to look out towards the lake, summoning the hurtful behaviour Anne invoked after his proposal. She all but cleared him out of her life after that day.

"I suppose we both had some living and learning to do, neither of us were ready" Gilbert added.

"What do you mean?"

Gilbert continued walking, "You are correct, the constant suggestions we should have married were suffocating at times. I imagine it was the gossip, of our dear old Avonlea, that put the idea into my head in the first place."

It was Anne's turn to laugh. Gilbert knew he hurt her saying that. He felt a small triumph in the thought that his words wounded Anne. "We bickered so much, in retrospect it would not have been a romantic match i'm sure. Like you said, it would have been for expectation only, not for love."

They walked on in silence. Gilbert felt torn by his last comment. Part of him felt like she deserved it. The satisfaction of telling her it was never love, that took him to Patty Place that afternoon left a satisfactory yet bitter taste in his mouth. He had hoped to see Anne put on her steel glaze, tilt her chin up, the way she did when she was hurt and angry. Instead her gaze was cast down. There was no rebuke, only regrettable silence.

When she first refused him, he had many conversations in his head with her, telling Anne exactly this. In each exchange, she would be rilled up, challenging him. He scribbled letters that never made it past his desk. But he imagined the return note he would receive. The reaction he was drowning in now was never a scenario that passed through his mind.

"Is Mr. Ford married?" asked Gilbert, looking for a way to move the subject away from them.

"No, he is not. I tell him that he is too particular about the woman he wants."

"I don't think there is anything wrong with that. Why should a man settle?"

"Maybe the ideal we think we want, is not always our best match."

The entrance to the garden was a welcome relief from the August sun. Anne dropped her parasol, letting it dangle from her hand. She stopped for a moment, gazing at the trees around her. The park was as bustling as the beach, with families congregating where the grass met the boardwalk. Blankets laid out, children running across them, met with cry's from mothers.

"I have not asked if you have children?"

"No, not yet."

When she asked him back, he replied with the same answer. He had hoped to have started a family by now. His father-in-law repeatedly reminds Gilbert they are a newly married couple of one year, whenever Mrs. Stuart makes hints at grandchildren. He had expected Anne would be mother to a handful of babies by now.

"I haven't the time," muses Anne as she leads them through the park as if she knows it. "Plus Roy is busy with his business."

"Yes, I suppose the famous author Mrs. Gardner and her husband Mr. Gardner the shipping tycoon cannot afford maids and nannies to help with a family," say's Gil sarcastically.

Anne knocked her parasol against his arm playfully, "I didn't write my stories under Mrs. Gardner, my pen name is still Shirley."

They had wondered beyond the path, crossing past beds of flowers. A dense collection of trees sat together, creating a secluded corner in the park.

"Do you know what this reminds me of Gil?" Gilbert shakes his head, looking around. "That place where the apple tree grows, deep in the woods."

"That apple tree always reminded me of you, from the moment I first saw it. I thought how it had come to life amongst the darkness of the forest, determined to do well. The earth was Green Gables. The sun and rain were Mathew and Marilla, helping you grow towards the light."

Anne turned to look at him, "Really?"

Gilbert nodded. "Something silly I used to think."

"If Green Gables was the soil, Matthew and Marilla were the sun and rain. What were you?"

"What do you mean?"

"You helped me thrive, grow. Even though we bickered from time to time, disagreed on some subjects, I valued you more than anyone. You were a true friend and I have missed you dearly."

The light from the sun shot through the trees, casting long streams of light. One lit up her face, highlighting the freckles that rested there. She looked earnestly at him, causing the whispers of wonder to circulate once more in Gilbert's mind. He looked away, willing the thoughts away.

"I will admit that I had not missed you at all until we walked into the Gardens. This Anne I have met is very different to the one I used to know. But then we have not been around each other since – well – I guess that silly day at Patty's Place. I only came along to dinner last night out of politeness."

"And what about today?"

Gilbert shrugged his shoulders, looking at the trees as if he were bored. "Much the same, I said yes out of niceness, nothing more. You and I are of different worlds now, we have little in common really."

Anne stepped back, looking for the path. "Very well Gil-"

"You think you are too good, more now than you used to. Even you admitted that you could not be seen on street car. The very thought of being close to the people that are at the level of your servants abhors you."

Anne opened her mouth, as if to say something, then closed it again. Gilbert watched defeat come over her face. Any spirit and fire that had rose up, retreated.

"I think it is wise if I return to my hotel," Anne replied in a quite voice. "You don't need to accompany me back," she says as if reading his mind. "You are free of me. It was good to see you, even if you did it only as a courtesy. I wish you all the best Gil, I truly do."

Not waiting for a reply, Anne walks past Gilbert. He turns and watches her, wondering if she will turn around. As she disappears across the park, he kicks a stone before he goes his own way, feeling like a thirteen year old boy that had a slate knocked on his head.

 **Thank you for the reviews, I do appreciate them :) My apologies for taking so long to get this chapter up - it was a hard one to write. Hopefully chapter four will be easier...**


	4. Chapter 4

**This story is AU...**

 **Everything that L.M.M Montgomery wrote, until convocation in Anne of the Island, happened.**

 **The rest thereafter, did not.**

 **Gilbert never contracted typhoid.**

 _Chapter 4_

Returning to an unlit house, was not uncommon for Gilbert. The housemaid had been informed of his arrival before he departed Toronto. Yet the entrance was pitch black, save the dim glow of street lamps.

The maid was not a choice made by Gilbert, or one he could wholly afford yet. Christine's mother insisted they have someone to around, sending help from her house before Gilbert had time to say otherwise.

He moved up the stairs, carrying his body one step at a time. Gilbert found Christine sleeping, her dark hair wound in the accustomed braid draped across the pillow. A thin sheet partially covered her, the open window offering cool relief from the warm night air.

Gilbert carefully placed the present from Eatons at his wife's dresser.

He looked at her, willing himself to crawl into bed. She was handsome and kind, although sometimes mean with her words when irritated. Often using her beauty to get what she desired. A talent Gilbert was aware of from the moment they met.

The longer he stood watching Christine sleep, the less Gilbert wanted to be laying next to her. Perhaps he wads overtired, as he found himself unable to rest properly on the train. The journey was spent flitting between the rustling of conference papers and resting his head against the window, willing himself to sleep a little. Neither held his attention long, the unease of which he addressed Anne in the park resurfacing.

He had been unfair, in retrospect she had not done anything wrong. Here he was holding onto a grudge, grown of jealously and inadequacy. He knew full well how it felt to have a petty grudge held against him. Anne had the life that he had always dreamed for her. When he loved her, all that Gilbert wanted to give her was an existence filled of comfort, ease and safety. Her life was filled to the brim with all he had ever dreamed for her.

Gilbert opened the door to his study. It was organised chaos, papers and books stacked in groups according to patient. Amongst the disorder sat a silver tray, a collection of correspondence sitting on top. He began to sort through it haphazardly, when a telephone message caught his eye.

It was not often his father t'phoned and leaving a message was not common. If ever Gilbert was not in the home to take his call, John Blythe would simply hang up.

 _Wednesday 2 August  
_ _Miss. Marilla Cuthbert passed away.  
_ _J. Blythe_

Gilbert slumped into his chair, reading the note again. It was Friday night. The two day trip from Toronto to Avonlea, meant Anne would have arrived Thursday night, learning the same news on her surprise arrival. He recalled the elated enthusiasm lighting up Anne's face, as she told him of the plan to surprise Marilla. Her train would have passed through Amherst. No doubt Anne would have been staring out the window, excitedly counting down the minutes until she was driving up the lane to Green Gables.

Memories of afternoons spent hunched over books in the Green Gables dinning room came flooding back to him. Marilla was hard, but kind in her own way. There was never a doubt how proud she was of Anne.

Gilbert listened for the sound of the operator, counting the clicks as they passed. The telephone was installed at the Blythe homestead not long after his parents visited the new home in Amherst. His mother in particular was the one who was sceptical to it, then quickly won over once it had been connected.

"Gilbert, it's late to be calling. I'm guessing you got my note."

He never asked who was calling, always knowing it was his son. "It was sad news to return home too father."

John let out a long breath, "It was a sad day here in Avonlea. The funeral was this afternoon. I guess I feel like part of me past has passed on. Her folks and my folks traveled to the Island together from Norfolk. I remember many a night spent at the Cuthbert's home as children, they were talented musicians and Mr. Cuthbert could turn a fiddle like no one else for miles."

"I didn't know you were so close to the Cuthbert's."

"It's something I had forgotten. Spent so much of my time working and sleeping the last thirty years to dwell on my past. I courted Matilda for a short while."

"What happened? Does Ma know?"

"Of course she knows. We only courted because we were all we knew. Her Pa was more bad than good, especially to Matthew. There were many a time he'd come to school with a bruise or not at all. Every one knew Mr. Cuthbert was unkind to Matthew, but you never heard a bad word come from his mouth about his father. Matthew soon became a better fiddler than his Pa, and singer too. He was kind, quite, polite and the girls all thought him real handsome. The popularity went from his father to him. Well his father never liked that much and he just set about chipping at his confidence. One afternoon I walked Marilla home, and saw the way her father spoke to Matthew. He down right would humiliate the boy. I went to go stand up for her brother, but Marilla warned if I did she would not see me again. I realised quick she was not the person for me.

"Ma would have stood up."

"That she would have. Eventually Matthew stopped playing, stopped singing, he retreated into himself. Stopped school and worked on the farm. Real recluse like. I think that's why Marilla stayed by his side once their folks passed away. Like she owed it to Matthew for not protecting him. Mind she softened when Anne came along son, and Matthew got some of that spark back too."

Gilbert rested his forehead against the wall. A distant click was heard before Gilbert could ask if Anne was at the funeral.

"Sounds like someone else has joined the exchange, I'l bid you goodnight." With that John Blythe hung up.

 **I have so many people to thank for their encouragement. I hope to be back here with a proper update soon.**


End file.
